Christmas Mixup
by Smaug the Writing Dragon
Summary: Superheroes and supervillians should never have names that start with the same letters. It's hard on Santa's elves. A short Christmas one-shot. Pre-movie.


Christmas was a curious thing. Some people actually looked forward to its arrival. Megamind was _not_ one of those people (Minion always thought that was unfortunate, because, you see, he'd always liked Christmas). Megamind summoned his most dastardly sneer as he braved the cold wind out to the mailbox at the end of the abandoned industrial building's drive. As always on Christmas morning, he dropped the lid, reached in, and pulled out –

"Augh!" he threw the terrifying object as far from him as he could, which, considering the lack of muscle on his arm, wasn't too far. "Minion!" The alien fish hurried out after his master, only to find him dancing madly around a brightly covered object, waving his dehydrator and throwing wild threats. "What diabolical plotting! I'll destroy it! I'll obliterate whoever dared try to send me – !"

"Sir?" Minion carefully dodged the thin, flailing arms and spikes and moved in for a closer look. It was a package, all right, but unlike anything he or his master had ever seen on Christmas day. It was bright red and green, and goodness, it was shiny! He tentatively poked at the silver cord wrapped around it. What was it holding in? Was someone trying to get to his master through the mail? He then saw the tag attached to the strange, fluffy object in the center. He craned his gorilla neck and read: "Merry Christmas to MM! Keep up the good work! Addressed to Mr. M.M., Metro City." Who would send this, Minion wondered and straightened back up.

"It wishes you a Merry Christmas, Sir, and it says good work," he scratched his glass head again at that. "What do you suppose it means by good work?"

Megamind had slowed his frantic war dance long enough to lean in behind Minion. "How should I know? I'm not good, and I've certainly not done any good work lately!" He shuddered. "The nerve! Do you suppose it's reverse psychoo-logy? They're trying to warp my brilliant, vile mind!"

_Psychology_, Minion mentally corrected to himself after a pause. "Well, Sir, perhaps we should investigate this strange package." Minion was stopped as Megamind pulled him back.

"Ah, I'm am already three steps ahead of you, my fantastic fish!" Megamind had regained his nerve and bravado, and he pushed in front of Minion. "Rather than endangering our own lives, I have devised an underhanded scheme. Let the Brain Bots open it!" he pronounced grandly, and right on cue, his droids flew in and surrounded the suspicious box. Megamind took a hasty step back behind Minion as the box smoked and was split right down the middle.

When the smoke cleared, the box lay inanimate and unthreatening on the ground, its bright colors shredded into bits. One brain bot reached in and lifted a strange object out its depths. Megamind raised his gun again as he peered at it. "What is that? Is that –" In spite of himself, he moved closer and sniffed the air. "Wood, mahogany by the smell of it. Why, I'm not susceptible to wood! What idiot would try to off me using a primitive piece of – "

"Sir?" Minion looked closer, and seemed to be close to smiling. "If I am not mistaken, that looks like a musical instrument. It looks like, a, a, well, a ukulele, Sir."

"A Ukelalu-what?" Megamind reared back as if it might bite him. He let the safety off his smaller death ray gun. "It sounds positively horrible."

Minion had been stretching his small fish brain this whole time, struggling to understand the mystery. He believed that he now understood. "I think it's a gift, Sir." He took in Megamind's blank stare. "You know, like those packages the children in school used to get at Christmas time."

Megamind twitched. "_Shool_," he breathed disdainfully. "Yes, yesssss, it looks like those. They came in bright colors, too. And they always had toys. I never got one…" He crouched and peered closer at the ukulele and then tossed it to a nearby bot. "It must be a mistake. I'm not good. Bad guys don't get Christmas presents." He stood suddenly, and glanced into the mailbox again. "And this is a rotten trade, anyway. Where's my coal?"

* * *

Metro Man yawned and stretched. What a beautiful Christmas morning! He made himself a glass of hot chocolate and glanced at the clock. If he used super-speed, he could check for his present from Santa before he had to get to the MICSF (Metro International Christmas Superhero Function). He lightly zipped out his front door, down to the mailbox, and back without a soul noticing. Occasionally, Metro Man enjoyed the solitude that super-speed brought. Hero worship was exhausting. He noticed with curiosity that his present this year came in a brown sack and was rather lumpy. Too bad, he'd been hoping for that Mahogany/Kao blend super-strength-string ukulele that he'd seen on television last month. He read the tag on the top: "To MM, seriously? Bad alien! Addressed to Mr. M.M., Metro City."

"Come again?" Metro Man coughed, and felt an absurd urge to cover this present up, even though no one was around. He wasn't a bad alien! Was this another dastardly plot by Megamind to destroy him? A blackmail attempt? Was there condemning evidence in here? He forced himself to pry it open and peeked inside. He jerked back, shook the bag over the table, and watched as several lumpy black rocks tumbled out. He sniffed. "Coal? What an odd present!"


End file.
